Breezes
by Rome OMD
Summary: Three times his window will open. Three times his window will close. Three open encounters between L and Raito.


Summary: Three times his window will open. Three times his window will close. Three open encounters between L and Raito.

Part(s): One-shot

Rating: PG

Author: Rome OMD

Date of Completion: 9/5/07

Date of Publication: 10/5/07

Note(s): There are spoilers here, so beware! The story begins with innocent!Raito and moves on from there. I also think it will make more sense to you if you're familiar with the entire story line. This is a lousy attempt at subtle romance (warning: shounen-ai!)—but, please, don't run away!

Disclaimer: I do not own _Death Note_. The following piece of _Death Note_ fanfiction was conceived purely out of my imagination and written for non-profit purposes.

Breezes

Three times his window will open. Three times his window will close.

SAVE.

_Click_.

HIBERNATE. No, never mind. SHUT DOWN. _Click._

L turned his attention from the computer in front of him to the figure slumped over the edge of the table at the other end. Actually, "slumped" would've been what anyone else would've done; "elegantly (stylishly? casually? L sifted through more words in his head.) resting his head against his arms" more accurately described the somnolent Raito, who at that moment turned his head to face L with closed eyes and steady breathing.

3:16 AM.

L reluctantly stood up, straightening and stretching his arms, listening to the _crack-crack-crack_ of his normally slouched back. Tossing another glance at Raito, still soundly asleep, he walked over to the only window of the room, lifted the blinds, and pushed open the glass to the nighttime coolness of the outside air. He leaned against the windowsill, careful to remain relatively hidden in the shadows as a slight breeze passed by, greeting him with chilly kisses on his face and neck and hands.

The metallic clanging of handcuff against link at the opposite end of the chain caused L to peek through the corner of his eye at Raito. Raito had shifted his head and his arms, so that his face was more visible from L's perspective.

This had become a nightly habit of his recently. When there approached the time of night when his mind did not work as efficiently as it would earlier in the day (albeit still more efficiently than the average person's) and when Raito had fallen asleep (he was not so inconsiderate as many had made him out to be), L would promptly conclude his work for the night, let the newly gathered information digest in his head as he rested against the windowsill, peering out at the still, serene scene outside. It was oddly relaxing and satisfying, in a way that sleep had never been. And on nights when he did steal moments like this for himself, he found himself more refreshed in the morning than on nights when he did not.

He reached for his half-eaten strawberry tart. He picked at it in odd angles, poking holes with his fork until the crust crumbled into many smaller pieces. Using a technique he had mastered over many tarts, he did something strangely efficient with the custard and strawberry slices to pick up every fallen crumb and leave his plate completely devoid of any hint of tart.

When L gently placed the plate back on the table, he moved to bite the nail of his thumb but unexpectedly pulled the chains taut, slightly jerking Raito's still sleeping form. His eyes moved to follow the length of the chain and saw it twisted around his chair, which explained the added restriction he had felt all night. Instead of moving to untangle the chain, he simply let his hand dangle limply by his side, resting his head against the palm of his other hand.

L thought it unusual that Raito did not jerk awake at this, as had been the case during several other occasions, but he did not dwell on this as he turned away. Even at this hour, a number of city lights still dotted the black sky like iridescent fireflies flying somewhere in the distance. His eyes looked from one to the next, with no specific point of interest, as he felt his previously attentive and active mind slip into an empty but calming respite, which L presumed would be similar to sleep for most everyone else.

He tilted his head upwards to stare at where the moon would have been but where a thick film of stubborn clouds instead rested. No sooner had he moved to close the window did the clouds flash white and a tumultuous clap of thunder sound, echoing through the city. He saw the first drops of rain fall from the sky, lightly pattering against the glass like gentle applause, before it began to rain in torrents. Seeing Raito shiver slightly, L went over and wrapped a sheet around him, watching as the trembling gradually disappeared.

Whenever L looked at him, his mind always followed the same track of thought: Objectively, Raito showed only a single-digit percentage likelihood of being Kira. Subjectively, L knew that Raito was Kira—memory loss or not. Inwardly, however, this piece of information hurt him. It was a small pain, like a needle pricked upon skin, but it stung nonetheless. And emotionally, if ever he dared traverse so far along this trail of thought, this twisted his insides with a bittersweet sorrow as well as a sense of hopelessness.

For fear that all of this should ever come pouring out of him like an unstoppable cataract, L never opened himself up in the presence of others; instead, he opened himself up only to the unassuming night, where he could temporarily let fall his cleverly maintained veneer of the aloof, brilliant detective who spoke with guise and manipulation and simply become—Lawliet.

Sometimes, he wondered if Raito had ever taken seriously his confession that he had been L's first friend.

Because that was the only time he had dared to open himself up to anyone.

What wistful hopes—the futility of it all! L suddenly realized that he had been resting his hand upon Raito's shoulder since placing the coverlet around his sleeping form; but as he moved away, a hand that was not his own shot out and held it in place.

"You haven't slept yet?"

"No." L paused. "But now that you're somewhat awake, you should move to the bed. Otherwise, your body will suffer strain in the morning that will most likely impede you from researching the Kira case efficiently."

Raito stared at him for a moment, which did not go unnoticed by L, before he grunted and relented to L's request. L took his place on the other side of the bed, sleep very far from his mind, and stared at the ceiling, listening to the rain pattering in tattoo against the window.

He felt shifting beside him and rolled his eyes to the source of the disruption. When he saw Raito staring at him, more awake than he had been a few minutes before, L turned his head to stare back. Raito moved the blankets in order to cover the two of them.

L shifted closer to Raito.

---

Three times his window will open. Two times his window will close.

After their encounter on the rooftop and then on the stairs, Raito found himself fuming as he stalked away towards the bedroom he had shared with L during their interim handcuff episode. It seemed the only place at the moment where he could satiate his desperate desire for quiet without any interruptions by form of either incompetent detectives oblivious to what had just occurred above them or a competent detective who apparently enjoyed obvious shows of biblical allusions. He threw the window open, welcoming the incoming breeze with open arms.

The washing of the feet. What an overly dramatic way for L to illustrate his superiority and his ultimate victory over Raito. Raito briefly saw red flash across his vision.

With an unceremonious chuckle, Raito closed his eyes and threw his head back, igniting a chain reaction of more chuckles and laughter that consumed his irate being. There was no need to be angry. He had just cornered Rem into an ingeniously connived trap that would ensure a step forward on his part. It was perfect and no less, as it was him, Yagami Raito, who had conceived of the plot.

Perfect.

"Argh!" Raito yelled, after he had punched the nearest wall. He quickly drew back his hand, wincing in pain—but not of the physical pain that pounded on his bruised hand but of the internal turmoil L had stirred within him.

What was it with that guy? He hadn't felt rage like this in ages. What was it about L that could make him feel so vast, so extreme an array of emotions? This lack of control greatly irked him—he did _not_ enjoy not being in control.

After all, who was L to talk to him like that back on the rooftop?

"_But the same applies to you…. Have you ever uttered a single completely true thing since you were born?"_

And what was even worse was the fleeting moment of doubt he was certain he had felt when he had looked straight into L's dark eyes back on the stairs, when the latter had said, _"Sad, isn't it? It's nearly time to say farewell."_ Perhaps L knew of his plans (which would explain the obvious allusion; again, Raito gritted his teeth), perhaps L saw that moment of doubt flicker across Raito's face, or perhaps—

Raito suddenly felt vulnerable. The sincerity in L's voice had been unnerving. He quickly shut the window and made his way to the door. Everyone else was waiting for him downstairs; it wouldn't do to be absent for the main event of the evening.

As he reached for the doorknob, Raito hesitated. Had he seen the same doubt or vulnerability flash across L's eyes as well—?

He shut the door.

When Raito went downstairs, everything fell into place as he had planned. L died shortly after Raito entered the large investigation hall, where everyone, his father included, was present. He lay there limp against the support of Raito's arms, his eyes closing very slowly like curtains to a brilliant performance. Though Raito felt a triumphant and maniacal glee surge through him, when he saw that light suddenly flicker and die in L's eyes like a broken butterfly, he felt something within him unexpectedly die as well.

But who had time to dwell on such trivial matters when one's greatest rival was defeated because of one's superior skills? The others working against Kira now no longer had any chance of progress in the case. Raito had won against L.

Then why did he feel so empty? He even thought that the triumph he felt was somewhat forced.

When L's hand fell to the floor, Raito unconsciously laced his fingers with those of the detective's. He chanced a quick glance at L's face, noting his closed eyes.

"And so, the window to your soul closes for the third time."

Raito ignored their inquisitive gazes. He thought he'd heard bells.

---

The third time his window opens, Raito does not close it.

He does not close it because L is sitting there on the windowsill, perched in his unusual slouched way, and is staring back at him.

It is white, very white. It is so bright that Raito has to blink a few times in order to adjust his eyes to the sudden brightness. He himself is wearing a white shirt and white pants. The only deviation in this pattern is L's jeans—he apparently wears them everywhere, afterlife included.

"Why are you here," Raito asks, although it sounds more like a statement than a question.

"For the same reason you are here, Raito-kun."

Raito momentarily furrows his brow, obviously trying to digest this obvious but difficult truth.

"So, this is death."

L nods.

"You won, then. If I'm here and dead, you've won."

"It was never a game or a matter of winners and losers. I realized that only too late. There are only those who live and those who don't whether they deserve to or not. And one can't attempt to change this truth according to one's ideological whims. You failed because you believed you were justice; you aren't. You're just human."

Raito flinches. He remembers only too clearly the day of his death and how Near (and Mello, whom he could not forget, for he was the key to Raito's loss) had cornered and defeated him in their intellectual duel. He tries to skip over the part of the memory with the insanity of shock and the unbearable weight of remorse but succeeds only mildly. Then, he recalls his final moments, when he had lain there like a bloodied limp doll on the stairs of an abandoned warehouse, with no thought on his mind but one: he had adamantly refused to close his eyes and succumb to death until he had seen—dare he admit it—L for one last time…

"Please spare me your so-called wisdom. You don't have all the answers, and I had enough of your speeches that day."

"I will never claim to have all the answers." L stops momentarily to look at the white ceiling, seemingly thoughtful about something. "Near and Mello performed quite well as my successors, I think. They—"

"Why are you here," Raito asks again, more pointedly and very keen on changing the subject. "Aren't I supposed to be damned to a place that is neither Heaven nor Hell? Plus, why is it only you who's here?"

L shrugs. "The afterlife is something, I believe, that is beyond explanation by reasoning. Perhaps this is a case where one can find answers by consulting the heart rather than the mind." This causes Raito to narrow his eyes at him. What an embellished way to simply say "I don't know." There is no need to feign affability between the two of them anymore for there is nothing to be gained on either party. The game is over, the winner has been decided, Raito thinks, despite L's conviction that there is neither a game nor a winner. He decides not to pursue the subject any further.

They fall into a silence which neither disturbs. Raito paces back and forth in the infinitely large room (Are there even walls? he asks himself.), aware but unperturbed that L is following his every step with his eyes.

After what seems like hours of silence between the two of them, Raito finally stops to glare at L.

"You contradict yourself." L remains silent to listen to Raito, who continues. "There was—is a winner. On that day, when you…" Raito falters. Even with all the experience he has in mellifluously twisting truth, in speaking lies like they are genuine, he falters because the truth is harder to speak than any lie. He falters because, like L has once pointed out, he has never uttered a single completely truthful thing since his birth.

And L wins again. Raito clenches his fists.

"I think you misinterpreted me that day." L looks pensive, his thumb inside his mouth. "I did not do that to boast my superiority or my victory to you. I did it to dry your feet—"

Raito throws a disbelieving look at him.

"—and to show you my feelings for you."

Raito throws a disbelieving look at him—again.

L hops off the windowsill and walks towards Raito. Soon, they are barely a foot apart. L offers Raito his hand, which the latter stares at for a noticeably long time. However, not once does L falter.

"You…"

"What about myself?" L asks.

"You…" Raito hates it. Rather, Raito hates L, though not really, for again putting him through so many emotions at once and making him humiliatingly incoherent, grasping for words like one would desperately grasp at straws.

Finally, taking up on that saying that actions speak louder than words, Raito firmly takes L's hand in his before wrapping his other arm around L's shoulders and pulling him close so that they are only a breath away. Then, he kisses him.

Funny, Raito knows he should've expected L to taste like sweets and strawberries, but it comes as a surprise to him nevertheless.

When they part, Raito has his arms around L's waist and L has his around Raito's shoulders and their foreheads are touching. L's eyes have barely fluttered open when Raito leans forward for another kiss.

The two of them break apart, and L walks to an open door that Raito has not noticed existed until now. When he reaches the threshold, he turns back to Raito and offers his hand again. Without hesitation, Raito walks to meet him.

"What about the window? Should we close it?" L asks him. He is staring into Raito's eyes, searching. Raito suddenly remembers a rainy night.

"I'd have thought you were above such clichés." Raito pauses. "No, leave it open. I enjoy the fresh air. And if ever I feel the urge to defenestrate something irksome," he stops to briefly look at L, "I shall be saved the trouble of having to open it first."

L smiles with an honesty that Raito has never seen before on his face. It infects his own as well before he can restrain it. Then, Raito takes L's hand, and they walk through the door, a breeze flying through the window behind them.

End

Author's Note(s): And L and Raito have a sappy happy ending. Episode 25 truly moved me, especially the part with the washing of the feet. I may be mis/over-interpreting the scene, but I thought it would've been cool if it was actually a biblical allusion and so, I applied this interpretation to the story. It makes their relationship so much deeper and more complex, and I love that. Also, I wanted to try something (relatively) new with this story, style-wise. I wanted to focus on detail and description and make the smallest things feel like something significant—ah, well, it kinda made sense in my head… Thanks for reading (my first _DN_ fic!), and if you could, please leave a review!


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